The Repercussions of Chess
by jkwasher
Summary: Vic's silence after skirmishes with Donna and Eamonn is ominous, and leaves Walt in limbo. One night changes the status quo, and the repercussions are no less strategic than the complex chess manuevers he's made before.
1. Chapter 1

**The Repercussions of Chess**

 _ **A/N: this is a post-Season 4 WIC story, early holiday/Christmas present to you all, probably five or six chapters, but this is NOT the holiday story I mentioned. For me, this is a post NanoWrimo indulgence.**_

 _ **So at some point, we may have a male writer join us here, but he may have an issue with so much, er, WIC-ness, which is a valid male concern and perspective. Full disclosure, this story is not so much a mystery as a resolution to relationship issues which pervaded Season 4, so read with that in mind.**_

His head pounded and his tongue felt like it had been chewing cotton balls. As he slowly opened his eyes, he became aware of something just out of focus, something he would not expect to see in his bed.

He pulled back, and it snapped into focus…womanly attributes swathed in a modest brunette forest, a woman lying on her side, the indent of her waist betraying her curvy figure, knees together, her delicate feet and painted toes close to the head of his bed. He inhaled sharply.

 _Who?_

He _thought_ he remembered. His memory might be playing tricks, but he _would swear_ he had spent the previous evening playing chess and drinking Pappy's with his irascible former boss Lucian Connally. He, er, hadn't been in the market for female companionship. Vic. Vic had been there, and of course Lucian, his old mentor covertly and sometimes _not_ so covertly leering at her tits. Occasionally, as the Pappy's had loosened him up, he had sneaked a peek, himself.

Vic had driven him home. Vic, who had accompanied him on Tuesdays for several months of Tuesdays now, and had stayed surprisingly sober and almost indulgent of Lucian's irascible humor. Vic, who had been quiet, almost silent, and fell asleep on the couch as they played. She'd been like that since the fiasco with Donna, more apt to accompany him to his weekly appointments with the old lawman. He suspected she didn't spend much time at Cady's, but she had been mute about Eamonn ever since the alley, and didn't think she was spending any time with _him_.

After his own little peccadillo requiring a 911 and a few days in the hospital where she had performed as acting sheriff and consulted with him on things she said she couldn't handle alone, she resumed riding with him, but The Mouth had gone mysteriously silent, which might have been a blessing, but was instead deeply troubling to him.

While Vic had been in charge, Ruby had consulted with him on the things she considered he _really_ needed to know about, and between them, he had felt the office in four competent hands.

At least with The Mouth, he had known where he stood. Now, he apparently sat in limbo with her…and if this proved out to be some unknown woman, he might have even ruined even that marginal truce.

He had wanted to ask for so long, since she had made that blow-to-his-heart announcement in the alley, if she were seeing anyone…Eamonn or otherwise, but she had not shared. He figured it was his fault for those damning words of his in the alley, and karma, not Vic, was indeed was in this case, a bitch.

So here he was, obviously having picked up someone…had they stopped at the Pony? He really couldn't remember…

"Stop thinking, Shithead!" came a muffled voice from under the covers, in the vicinity of his groin and someone grasped him quite firmly _there_.

He couldn't suppress a gasp… _Vic_ in his _bed?_ And…in _this_ position?

Now he was pretty sure he did _not_ remember, and he didn't like that about Pappy's, because he wanted to remember _every last detail_.

What he assumed had been her hand fell away, and her tousled blonde head poked up from the covers.

"You seemed to like it, earlier," she said conversationally.

"I— _Vic?"_

She reared back a little, but drew a blanket around her.

"Who'd you think's down here? No, don't answer that." The voice was dry, bitter. As though she were imagining other hands, other mouths, other womanly attributes in his bed.

He didn't want to acknowledge, yes, exactly that, but she interrupted his thought—

"I told you to stop fucking _thinking!"_

"Is that…are you…?"

"Complete sentences, please?" She sat up. "You can't remember? Really? Even after the third time? I mean, they were memorable for _me,_ but…"

 _Three times?_ He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry. _Shit…_ but all he could say was, "You're still brunette down below?"

She snorted with laughter. "T _hat's_ what threw you off? Yeah, I stopped dyeing it when there wasn't anybody I had to 'match' for…" She left the sentence hanging and shifted onto her elbow. "So, I wasn't too forceful, you're not sore?" she asked solicitously.

He tested out all the equipment, it all felt in order, but he could tell parts of him had been busy, muscles he hadn't used in a while…

"Nope, good to go. Were you…wanting another round?"

"Oh, I dunno, I thought I might take a shower before heading to _work_ , my boss has been making a point of the deputies not being _late_ —and you might want to visit your horse. She's been protesting the slow room service for the last couple of hours. Or I might just freeze to death making coffee. You're warm, your house is not."

He suddenly realized it must be much later than he thought. It was…a Wednesday, if Tuesday night with Lucian was the previous night…but he'd never had a headache like this one, before….. and she was _right_ , work. He looked over at the clock on the night table – 8 am. _Shit._ He could be late, he often had been that Year of Neglect after Martha had been murdered, but he had made it a point after returning from the Barlow hiatus to be an example for the younger deputies, and never was late now… _normally._

He threw the covers off, started for the living area. "I'll make a fire, shower, coffee…"

"I can do the coffee. You showed me how my last visit. Don't need a fire, I'm leaving, anyway. You should probably visit your horse, first. She's been calling you _shithead_ in horse language. Even _I_ recognized that tone."

Her last visit, when he had been ostensibly protecting her from Gorski. When Lizzie had _dropped by_ , with both trucks parked in full evidence out front, he had only realized much later.

He quickly visited the bathroom, then threw on a t-shirt and jeans before he realized it was _really_ cold out, and added a thick flannel shirt over it. He was putting on socks when she returned from the kitchen wearing his shirt from the day before, with only a couple buttons done. Her brunette-ness peeked from where it hung open as she handed him a mug of coffee. His first instinct was to set down the coffee and press her back into the mattress.

God, but he wanted to _remember!_

Unfortunately, he didn't.

XXX

Twenty minutes later he returned from the stable to find Vic looking impossibly beautiful drinking coffee and warming her hands on one of his mugs. She had showered, and was dressed complete to her duty jacket, hair secured in a ponytail. She looked ready to leave, but he didn't want her to, ever. This was a memory he hoped would become frequent, and…indelible. The hair tie looked absurdly familiar.

"What did you tie it back with?"

"Dental floss. I couldn't find mine."

"Probably hiding somewhere under the furniture?" he smiled. He couldn't remember the last time he had really smiled. "Vic—" He reached for her. She evaded.

"Work, remember?" she said lightly, and he resigned himself.

"We'll be pushing the grindstones around if you deign to join us, later."

She turned and put her mug in the sink.

"If you drive in with the Bronco…"

Her jaw worked. She obviously hadn't thought that far, that she'd have to come out to pick him up. She sighed.

"All right, I'll wait, but I'm going to warm the truck up. It's fucking cold in here."

He made a loop of his arm and reeled her in, kissed her softly at the corner of her mouth. She didn't recoil, but didn't throw herself into it, either. She did swallow, so she wasn't as unaffected as she pretended. He was pretty sure now that she was pretending to be nonchalant.

"I won't be long."

XXX

The ride in was nearly silent. Still the silent treatment. When had Vic gotten so quiet? After he had started acting like a dick, he supposed. He took her about a block from her truck per her directions.

"I'll head over to the Bee and bring in breakfast," he offered.

"Don't bother for me…no special treatment, Walt."

"Then I'll bring everybody breakfast. Give over, Vic. I should at least feed you."

"No special relationship clues, Walt, like the stuff Branch noticed. Just another day."

But it _wasn't_ just another day. It was their _first_ day, really.

He felt terrible, he knew he wasn't treating her right.

"Vic—" his fingers grazed her cheek.

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled, hopped out and almost ran to her own truck.

His eyes closed. _After work_ , he thought. There was time. There was time.

But somehow there wasn't. Half a dozen phone calls, two marked _urgent_ in Ruby's distinctive blocky print, occupied half his afternoon. He was still getting resistance to add Eamonn on, even though his deputies were not enough to cover the additional casino crime, and the casino kept contributing to the increasing calls county-wide.

She was gone when he he came out to call her in toward the end of the day, maybe set something up, dinner in Sheridan, an overnight at the cabin, whatever, but she was gone.

Ruby was still there, finishing up logs and the latest offering to the _Durant Courant_.

"Where's Vic?" he asked, feeling stupid. He wasn' asking over Ferg or Zach, both of whom were also gone.

"They all responded to the call about ten minutes ago, a robbery at the Kum and Go."

"A robbery?" You didn't tell me?" Suddenly, he felt something was very wrong. _He_ should have been the one responding. "I could have cut the call short."

"Not with the mayor, Walt. We need the extra help, obviously, and they haven't called in, yet."

"I'll join them." He grabbed his coat and threw it on, adding his hat and cranking it down.

"You do that," said Ruby. "Did you get the go ahead for Eamonn? Should I call him?"

"Yes, and I will when I get back."

She said something else, but he didn't hear it. He was already out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Uh-oh, this story only lasted two chapters, but I've been having fun with my Holiday story, which turned post-holiday theme but ties back into the holidays, oh well, I am digressing. It should start appearing later this week. This one just turned (in my head) funny. Hope it's the same for you. Then it mysteriously ended faster than I'd hoped…ah, well, if I let myself get buried with performance issues, ah, 'nuff said…**_

 **Chapter 2**

He was nearly there when Vic's voice cut in.

"Ambulance to 221 Main Street, Kum and Go, suspect down one officer down."

His heart chilled. He hadn't been there to coordinate the effort, with admittedly less experienced deputies. The thoughts of Sheridan and a cozy evening flew from his mind.

The deputies' vehicles came into sight and he pulled around next to Vic's truck. All three crouched behind it, but Ferg held what appeared to be a bloody furrow in his upper arm.

"Shit, Walt, put on a vest, will you?!" At least she had them all appropriately tactically equipped.

He went around the back of the Bronco, yanked out his little-used one. He was strapping it on as she apprised him.

"Okay, two suspects still inside holding at least two hostages. One suspect came out blazing, nicked Ferg. We took him down and I called for an ambulance for both. Ferg at the very least needs patching."

"Any idea what they're doing here, what they want?" he asked, trying to reconcile this cool-headed virago with the woman under his sheets just that morning.

"Not a clue. They haven't answered the phone inside, and we have no cell number to call."

"I wondered about tear gas or a shock grenade," Zach thought out loud, "maybe temporarily disable them so they can't do anything to the hostages? I could go around, lob it in through a side window."

Zach's empathy with the victims of all this, hostages shopping for a soda or whatever…immediately transmitted to him. Walt nodded.

"Do we have any here?"

"I have a couple," said Vic, and began to scramble in the locking compartments along the bed of her truck."

A shot whizzed by. Walt dove and dragged her down the side of her truck. "You okay?" he whispered, his heart almost beating out of his chest.

"Yeah. I'm fine. The cre-tard wasn't even close."

And she was, but clutching at his shirt and trembling, too. He wanted to gather her to him, but knew that would be way out of line on duty.

He put her from him. "Okay, then," he said softly, hoping she understood how he really felt.

Zach's idea worked. The tear-gas drove them out, the robbers were arrested, the victims sent to the hospital for treatment, and the holding cells filled for the night. No beds for deputies or sheriffs in the jail that night.

Walt sighed. Sheridan was out. He knew the evening offered nothing but paperwork. He could stick his deputies with it, or suffer through it with them. He was already planning, though. Zach could stay with the inmates, Ferg had been sent home to recuperate.

It was after midnight when he finished the last notes. He peeked out, his heart flipping a little to see Vic still at her desk, but her head was on her folded arms and she was asleep. He was pretty sure Zach was in the Reading Room, he could hear the water on in there.

He grinned a little. She probably hadn't gotten a lot of sleep the night before. Maybe he could make that up to her and just hold her all night through.

He went over and laid a hand on one of her arms.

She surged up awake as though she were going to punch him.

"You shouldn't do that," she said, her voice cracking a little, coming straight from sleep.

"Nope, I wanted to offer you…"

Zach emerged from the Reading Room.

"…a ride home. It's late."

Zach offered, "Ferg is going to be in to relieve me 8 A.M., Vic, if you want to sleep late. You looked a little tired, today."

"No shit," she said, rubbing her face like she was trying to de-blear it. "Tell Ferg thanks, and call me if he needs me sooner?"

"Will do," said Zach.

Walt just stood there. She looked up at him as though making a sudden decision.

"Okay." She got her duty jacket and stood up.

He escorted her, his hand on her back, like it used to be before the two of them had started sniping and withdrawing from each other.

As they went down the stairs, she said, "Of course to Cady's. I need clean clothes and reassure her I'm still alive."

He felt guilty, like he should have thought to call Cady, earlier in the evening.

"She'd understand if you went home with me this late."

Vic looked at him as though he'd grown horns.

"Yeah, she might, but would _I_ understand it?"

"Please Vic. I don't want to be alone tonight. I don't want to lie there all night thinking of that shot going by you in the parking lot."

She grimaced and elbowed him. "I told you to _stop thinking!_ "It was not said playfully.

He unlocked the Bronco and they both got in.

"If I take you to Cady's, will you pick up clean clothes and come out with me? Better yet, pack for a few days?"

" _A few days?_ Are you _nuts?"_

"Obviously so," he said, stung. "I would just like a little time to—"

"Walt. I'm going to Cady's to sleep. I may get in a little late, but I'll get there to assist Ferg mid-morning the latest, so—"

He put the Bronco in park, and pulled her over to him.

"I've wanted to do this all day."

He nuzzled her neck, the thin sheen of dried sweat left from their hours waiting out the suspects salty to his tongue.

"And this," he whispered, kissed her brow, her ear, her cheek. "And this," he added, turning her face to his.

She appeared to surrender given his demonstration, and moved toward him with a whimper.

"It's so much better when you can remember," she whispered into his mouth, and it was _on._

XXX

The Bronco was only the first time, and this time he had the luxury to remember every moment. When he had a few minutes of clarity, with her fast asleep sprawled over him, he very gently extricated himself and threw all the clothes strewn about into his washing machine, started the fire, and equally as gently slid back in to envelop her.

After the next round, while Vic took a shower, he put the clothes in the dryer and stoked the fire. He remembered to text Cady that because it had been so late, Vic was staying at his place, not to worry. His conscience on that was clear. Vic had protested at showering alone, but he'd had his own tasks to complete. He joined her before she was done, and demonstrated that a half-finished shower could be very stimulating, indeed.

That called for _another_ shower, and it was not until near dawn that they settled in.

"This doesn't feel like a place of death," she murmured sleepily. He wasn't sure if she was referring to Martha's illness, Barlow, or the near-miss when Donna had been there.

"Now it's a place of love." He felt they had adequately demonstrated that during the night. It wasn't until he began to hear the birds that he allowed himself to drift off.

When he awoke mid-morning she was gone, and so was the Bronco. He scowled, hoping she would come back to pick him up, and not send Ferg or Zach. By the time he'd showered, put on sweatpants and walked to the porch to stretch, she was sitting there on the straight chair fast asleep, her truck out front, a drink holder with two coffees at her feet.

He gingerly touched her shoulder, remembering her reception to that the day before. She started awake.

"You already been into the office?"

Her head jerked in the direction of a coffee carrier. "Just to Dorothy's. The one marked zero is yours. It's cold by now, but you could microwave. I have a to-go bag still in the truck."

"Why are you sleeping here?"

"It's quiet in the office, Ferg's doing paperwork, and I have my phone. I thought I should give you a ride in."

Mollified, he sat next to her. She looked impossibly beautiful despite the harsh morning sun.

"Should we talk before we go in? We haven't had a moment."

She didn't answer. Her look betrayed apprehension.

"I wouldn't have responded if I didn't care about you, Vic. I've wanted you for a long time, but set up barriers to keep you safe."

She looked away. Her mouth worked and she sighed. "You mean, to keep _you_ safe."

"To keep me in my place," he clarified. "I'm weak when it comes to you."

Her eyes met his.

"So you just gave in to an excess of Pappy's?"

"So, I just acted on what I've wanted to do for a long time. The first night, the alcohol erased the filters and safeguards."

"And last night?"

"Last night, no acohol. Just me. I just…wanted to. I…fell in love a long time ago, but you were married, so I wanted to make sure it wasn't me who ruined that."

He couldn't tell. She looked so _sad_ at his announcement. "What about _after_ the divorce?"

That, he had no real excuses for, except…

"Branch. That my actions led to a deputy's death. I didn't want to repeat that, because I loved you."

She shifted in the chair. " _That_ , after you returned from the Barlow hiatus, _that_ was what you called _love_?"

Okay, so he _deserved_ that.

"No. Those were the barriers talking."

She sighed. She still looked exhausted, and the last two nights, he had been the cause.

"Do you want me to take you to Cady's? You can sleep today if you need to."

"No." No explanation.

He sighed. He would just have to accept that.

"Okay, then, but I have one question."

She squinted at him in the morning sun.

"Why have you been coming to Lucian's?"

She looked a little abashed. "You really have to ask?"

"Yeah." Two could play at her game.

"You asked me to stay. I stayed for _you_. Not Durant, not Ferg, not my career, not for anything or anybody but _you._ I figured if that's what I wanted, and you wanted Donna or whoever, but not me, I would ride with you and spend as much time as I could with you, if that was all I had left. Eventually I'd move on."

His heart almost broke, and then chilled. It sounded like she _still_ planned to 'move on.'

"And…now?"

"Now…now, I'm just going to enjoy whatever it is we have."

 _Whatever it is we have…_ What had he _done_ to her?

"We can have whatever you want us to have, or whatever you're willing to have with me, Vic, because I don't want to go back to before. I want _us._ "

"We'll see," she said quickly, too quickly, and he was still puzzled. He wondered if he had to meet some standard or pass some test, and was failing abysmally. The thought panicked him.

"What about other people?" she asked suddenly, and he got a pang. _Eamonn_?

"What about them?"

"You wanted Donna after you asked me to stay."

His mouth worked. His phone rang inside, and with resignation he went to answer it. Caller ID said it was Lucian.

"Hey, you okay, Walt?"

"Sure, fine."

"I dunno, that Pappy's just about kicked me on my butt, and I'm used to it. Did you see the Special Edition label on it?"

"No." He'd had Pappy's plenty of times before with Lucian, and never had a problem.

"I think I might've blacked out. I've never had that problem before with it."

 _Blacked out_ – like he had with Vic?

"It did hit me too, Lucian. I was surprised, Pappy's always has a punch, but a gentle one. I felt more like I'd been felled by a two-by-four."

"Yep, that's it exactly, but at least you had the pretty deputy to drive you home. Say, what's with her? She hasn't said two words in weeks. I miss the sass to match the tits."

He saw her standing in the doorjamb, watching and listening to his conversation.

"I don't know if there is anything wrong, but I'll keep an eye out," he said to his old mentor. I need to go. You might drink from another bottle, and I can get that one tested if you want."

"Or I'll just drink less," said Lucian, and Walt grinned a little. "Buyer beware."

After he hung up, Vic was studying him. "You think it was drugged?" She paused. "That _I_ drugged it? Roofied you or something?" She looked poised to either flee to the truck or enter to do battle, and hadn't quite decided which.

"I have no idea who or what," he said honestly. "And I don't think you would have any reason or inclination to do that to an old man like Lucian. It would explain, however, why I had trouble remembering our first night together…and I would so love to remember that." He couldn't help how wistful it sounded. He hoped she understood he truly felt regret for that.

Her mouth quirked a little. "Or I could do a re-enactment, play-by-play as it were. Like the sportscasters do for the Flyers."

He felt his whole body smile. "Or that."

"No more Donnas?"

He shook 'no' once. "No more Eamonns?"

She had fistfuls of his shirt in two seconds, her mouth on his.

Neither of them were completely undressed but both completely sated, or at least as he judged it so, when the phone rang again.

He shut his eyes, pulled back a little from where she was draped next to him. She made a resigned noise as he drew away from her to answer it.

"On call," he whispered before picking up. He put it on speaker, just in case.

"Better be good, Lucian. I'm busy."

"Ah…Sheriff Longmire, Sheriff Connally just handed me the phone. This is Betsey Evinder from Room 36."

Okay, a cell mate of Lucian's, soooo….?

She cleared her throat. "Well, he wanted me to call you, to let you know there was a teensy tiny mix-up."

"A mix-up?"

From the bed, Vic shot a WTF look and cocked her head.

"Yes, dear. You see, well, I've always had a bit of a tendré for Lucian...you know, he is so young and handsome and all that…"

He could almost hear Lucian's chest puffing up in the background of Room 31 at Snowy Vista.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Evinder, I don't follow you at all."

"Well, my sister Louella, do you remember her?"

Vaguely he remembered the two blue-haired old ladies, 80 if they were a day, hovering over cookies and delicate porcelain cups of tea. Lucian would indeed appear young, handsome, virile, and most importantly, _alive_ to them both.

"Ma'am, do you have a report to make?"

"Well…not exactly…"

He heard a thunk as Lucian grabbed the phone.

"Walt, it was a _love herb._ Her sister gave her herbs and she doctored the Pappy's."

He thought he'd mis-heard. "A _what_?"

"A love herb. Ma huang. It's like, uh, a little blue pill and a Monster drink rolled into one. I think she must've used a whole _packet_ of the stuff!"

 _Shit_. "Lucian, I don't think I heard you right…"

"I thought my heart was gonna right beat out of my chest, and Betsey says late that night she stopped by to share a cup of tea with me, but I guess I had already passed out and was no good to her…"

He fought the urge to either laugh uproariously or cry. Poor Lucian…Poor Vic, but if it finally shook loose the cobwebs that had obscured his vision…

He looked over to where Vic had the sheet in her mouth, shaking her head ferociously, probably not to erupt in laughter in the background.

"Lucian, I have to go. Pour it out, hide it, but _don't drink anymore_ , okay? I'll replace the bottle for you, I just don't want you to experiment with any more of it. It could have killed us both."

"Or I could have some fun with Betsey…"

"Lucian!" he knew he almost roared, but he hoped he got through. He slammed the phone down and observed his naked deputy on her back, laughing uproariously.

"Thank you, Betsey!" she was saying, over and over again…

How could he resist, but to provide a comforting…and distracting…counterpart to Betsy's glorious mix-up? He almost wanted to call Lucian back and tell him to offer Betsey a little doctored Pappy's in her tea…it might make them _both_ very happy.

Vic had tears of laughter streaking her face. Or let Lucian figure it out himself, he thought, as he kissed Vic properly.

He couldn't stop smiling, even later that afternoon at work. _Thank you, Lucian!_ You never knew what repercussions perfecting your chess game might bring.


End file.
